Midnight Comfort
by Dee Lee
Summary: Alanna awakes in the middle of the night from a nightmare. Who else is there to comfort her and wipe away her tears? AJ. Oneshot. Please R&R!


**Midnight Comfort**

Disclaimer: I am not Tamora Pierce. Do you think I would really write fanfiction about my own books?

A/N: Ok, everyone, this is my first Tamora Pierce fanfiction, so please go easy on me, and please review!

* * *

"Come on, Jon!" Alanna shouted gleefully as she ran down the corridor, dragging Prince Jonathan of Conte with her.

"Where are we going, Alanna?" he inquired, grinning, as he sprinted along beside her.

"You'll see." was her response.

Prince Jonathan frowned, his dark eyebrows furrowing low over his charming sapphire eyes. "Squire, I demand you tell me where we are going," he stammered.

Alanna of Trebond halted, her bright purple eyes shining. "Hey, that isn't fair, your Highness."

"Don't call me that, Squire," he teased her, pulling his hand from her own gently.

"Then don't call me Squire, Highness," she smirked mockingly.

Jon hesitated, then chuckled and ruffled her copper hair. "Come on, Fire-Hair; show me where we are going then."

Alanna stopped in sudden realization. She had just noticed that Jon's voice was the same voice that she had heard when he had the Sweating Sickness, not his normal voice. That deeper, calmer voice. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before. Was her voice that same female voice? She was going to ask Faithful. But she discovered that Faithful was not around. _That's strange. I wonder where he is?_ She mused to herself.

She smiled and looked up at Jon, which she immediately regretted as she began to get lost in his eyes. Shaking her head to clear the horrible thoughts of being 'in love' with Jonathan, she took his hand again and continued to run, until they had reached they grounds outside the Palace.

"Alanna, can I ask you something?" Jon asked her thoughtfully.

"Of course you can," Alanna replied to the handsome Prince.

"When will you—"

"Shh," Alanna hushed him, hearing a rustle near them. Her eyes searched around them but she could not see anything.

Suddenly Alanna's noise began to itch and she could feel magic in the air.

She walked forward five steps, releasing Jon's warm and smooth hand. She regretted it, as the cold immediately enclosed on her. She longed desperately to run into his arms and hold him tightly, but thought better.

"Jon?" she whispered, turning around.

Her heart sank as low as possible. There was Jonathan, lying on the snowy ground face down. A large, familiar sword had been plunged into his back.

"Jon?" Alanna screamed, rushing over to him and dropping to her knees. "Jon!"

She flipped him over, and was terrified to see that he was indeed, dead.

"No! No! No! Goddess, please!" she cried, feeling the tears rush down her delicate face.

Alanna began sobbing; not knowing what was going on. Jon was dead, and it was her fault.

She heard the rustling again, and she looked up, dreading what she was going to see. Standing meters away from them was Duke Roger of Conte and Alexander of Tirragen. Both of them were smiling, in an evil, cruel way.

Duke Roger nodded to Alex, as if signaling something. Alex nodded back, reaching for and bringing out his sword. He began pacing towards her, with his sword held high. He stopped in front of her, and looked down at the mess that was Alanna. He raised his sword high and swung it towards her.

She was defenseless, hurt, and afraid. And she couldn't do anything to stop him.

* * *

"Alanna!" a voice cried. The voice sounded afraid and confused. "Alanna!" 

Alanna was jolted awake by the sound of a cool and deep male voice. Moments later, she realized she was screaming and crying.

A pair of muscular arms wrapped tightly around her thin and small body. Alanna lent against his bare chest and wept onto his skin.

"Jon, I was so afraid," she whispered, in sudden realization that it had been just a dream. She stopped crying and wiped her face with her sheets. "I'm not going to let that happen."

"Let what happen?" he asked her kindly, brushing a stray copper hair from her head. Alanna felt her body tingle lightly as he did so. She couldn't help but notice how all he was wearing was breeches, and his chest was bare. His chest looked so toned and firm.

"I'm not going to let you die," she whispered, barely audible.

"Nonsense. I'm not going to die."

"Duke Roger and Alex are trying to kill you." She paused before saying, "And me."

"That's ridiculous," Jon laughed. Alanna looked up at him with her large amethyst eyes and a red puffy face. He frowned. Jon instantly found himself thinking that Alanna was very beautiful, even when her face was red from crying. Maybe not as much as Lady Delia or Lady Cythera, but she was beautiful.

"And what do you mean Alex?" Jon asked her softly.

"He tried to kill me. When everyone was so infatuated by Delia, he challenged me to a fight, and if Myles and Faithful hadn't found us, I would have been dead." She cried out the last word, and broke into a new batch of sobs.

"That's nonsense. Did you tell him to stop?"

"Yes! I cried at him to stop, but he just kept attacking me," she whispered into his chest.

Jonathan put his arms around her and pulled her close to him in a hug. "It's alright, Alanna. You were just having a dream." Jon tried not to admit it to himself, but he was scared as well. Ever since the Black City, Jon had began to feel things for his small female squire. Ever since he kissed her at the war with Tusaine, he found himself thinking more and more about doing it again.

"But I'm so scared, Jon. I have those dreams all the time," she told him.

Jon looked frightened and slightly angry. "Why haven't you told me about these before?"

"Because you would try to comfort me and tell me it was just a dream," she laughed.

"And you don't want me to comfort you?" he asked, leaning closer towards her.

Alanna sniffed and smiled up and him, remembering what the Goddess had said to her. _Would it be so terrible if Jonathan did offer you comfort?_

She had blushed and replied_, Of course it would._

But now that he was comforting her, was it so bad? She didn't think so. It felt nice leaning against Jonathan's bare toned stomach and looking up into those deep blue eyes. But no! She promised herself she would never love a man. But her feelings for Jon had been growing since the war at Tusaine, ever since… he kissed her. She kept mentally kicking herself every time she thought about kissing Jon again, or on those freezing cold nights where she just wanted to sleep with him.

"Of course I don't want you to comfort me!"

"And why not?"

"Because I'm going to be a knight soon. I shouldn't be crying and in need of dire comfort!" Alanna admitted. However, Alanna had only told him part of her reasons. The other, was of course, her fear of love.

She blinked and realized that Jonathan was close to her. Dangerously close. Her stomach was repeatedly tingling and heat was rushing through her body. She could feel excitement and fear. Both emotions were of the same thing; being too close to him. Her heart was drumming against her chest and his lips looked terribly inviting.

"Mithros, Jon," she breathed, putting her hands on his shoulders, but by the time they had got there, her initial instinct to push him off her had been long forgotten.

Part of Alanna tried to shake him off, butthe other partdidn't want to. Jonathan brought one of his hands behind her and pushed it into the small of her back, and ran the other through her soft copper hair. Before she knew it, his lips pushed down onto her own. His tongue invited itself past her lips and it instantly deepened the kiss. Alanna's whole body was trembling with excitement, and she could feel Jon's shaking against her. One of her hands traveled to his chest, the other to around his neck, where she pulled him towards her closer and, if possible, they deepened the kiss further.

When they broke apart, Jon smiled warmly at her. She smiled back. Faithful mewed from the corner of the room in relief. _About time_, he remarked. Alanna ignored him.

"Jon," she whispered, wondering what in Tortall she was going to say next.

The Prince was about to open his mouth to say something, but Alanna had already pulled him in for another kiss. A whirlwind of emotions swirled through them; passion, confusion, excitement, fear and… something else that most would have considered love. Alanna thought nothing of it. She certainly didn't love Jon. Or did she? It was a strange and unusual feeling, but happy and light.

When they broke apart again, Jon got up of her bed and walked towards the connecting door between their rooms.

"Goodnight, Squire," he smiled cheekily at her.

She grinned back. "Goodnight, my Prince."

He left the room and closed the door behind him. Alanna felt heat running through her body and her heart was pounding heavily against her chest. She lied down to go to sleep again, forgetting about her worries and why Jon was in her room in the first place. She smiled, and didn't realize until seconds later, that she was holding onto her pregnancy charm. She couldn't help but thank the Goddess; comfort wasn't bad. In fact, she wished that Jonathan came to comfort her every night.


End file.
